


Sweet Child of Mine

by QueerGirlTakeover



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU, F/F, single mother au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerGirlTakeover/pseuds/QueerGirlTakeover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura's five-year-old daughter accidentally introduces her to Carmilla at a park. The road to love is never smooth but nobody expected it to be like this......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Paths Cross

**Author's Note:**

> I will add pairings and characters as they appear.... so as not to give things away. I know how much y'all love surprises in your fluffy fic.

The park is a lot more crowded than Carmilla'd anticipated, though if she's really honest with herself, she'd say that since it's a Saturday, she should have seen this coming.

Kids run wild over the play structures, swing so high on the swings Carmilla's almost afraid they'll fall off and crack their heads open. Parents and babysitters line the edge of the park, sitting on benches or standing in circles. Some have their hands on strollers, and others sit alone, avidly watching whichever child is theirs.

One woman sits directly across from Carmilla, brown hair swinging around her face as she pores over a thick book. A pencil twirls absentmindedly between her fingers and sometimes she leans in to make a mark on a page. Occasionally she looks up, eyes searching the play structure. Not that Carmilla's watching her or anything.

Carmilla settles back onto her own bench and smiles, raising her book. Her innate stubbornness takes over and she tries to concentrate again. She's here, she's dressed, she's awake, and she's not going anywhere. All of that effort is not going to be wasted by her giving up.

Something unexpectedly hits Carmilla's knees and she's pulled from her book, looking down for the source of her disruption. A little girl is sprawled on the ground in front of her, looking a little shocked.

“Sorry,” she says, concern creasing her brow. “I didn't mean to run into you.”

“It's okay,” Carmilla says with a smile, lowering her book. “You alright there, sweetheart?”

“Only my mom can call me sweetheart,” the little girl says, frowning.

“How about Buttercup? Or Creampuff? Or Cupcake?”

The little girl's face lights up with a grin. “Cupcake!” she says, scrambling to her feet. “Ow.” She holds her hands out in front of her like she can't quite believe that she's actually scraped them.

“Oh no,” Carmilla says, leaning forward. The little girl obligingly tips them towards her, and Carmilla gives her an exaggerated smile of relief. “Phew, I thought it was going to be serious. Little cuts like those will clear up in no time.”

“Really?” The girl looks at Carmilla, face serious.

“Absolutely,” Carmilla replies, equally serious. “And besides, it's almost impossible to _really_ hurt a cupcake, you know.”

“It is?”

“One hundred percent,” Carmilla says. “I should know. I work in a cupcake shop.”

“You do? Do you get free cupcakes?”

“Sometimes,” Carmilla begins, but she's interrupted.

“Betty!” someone calls, and the little girl turns around.

“Mama,” Betty says, holding her hands out to the approaching woman. “Look.”

“Oh no,” the woman says, and Carmilla resists the urge to laugh at the woman's repetition of her own response. “We'll clean those up when we get home. I'm sorry she disturbed you,” the woman says to Carmilla.

“No problem.” Carmilla smiles at her and the woman smiles back. This is the first good look at her that Carmilla's gotten, and she finally realizes that it's the same woman she'd been determinedly not looking at across the park. The thick book is closed and tucked under her arm, while the pencil balances behind her ear.

“I ran into her on accident,” Betty says, watching them. “I apologized though,” she adds, quickly.

“It's okay Cupcake,” Carmilla says, and the little girl grins again.

The woman reaches down for her daughter's hand, taking it gently so as not to bump her scrapes. “We should go,” the woman says. “Say goodbye.”

Betty waves at Carmilla energetically, the pain from her hands forgotten. “Bye!”

“Bye Cupcake,” Carmilla says as they turn away. Carmilla didn't think it was possible for Betty to grin any wider. She was wrong. They cross the playground and she watches the woman buckle her daughter into a carseat, then pull carefully away from the curb. Carmilla keeps her eyes on the car until it rounds the corner, then raises her book again.

* * *

Laura manages to ring the doorbell with her shoulder, trying not to unbalance herself. Two seconds later, Perry flings the door open, red hair flying everywhere.

“Laura!”

“Hey Perry,” Laura says as Perry steps aside to let her in. Perry reaches out to take one of the grocery bags and follows Laura into the kitchen.

“How was your day?” Laura asks, but before Perry has time to answer, something shiny and pink comes flying into the kitchen from the living room.

“Mommy!”

“Betty?” Laura says, turning to look at her. Her daughter is dressed in the strangest costume she's ever seen. The bottom is silver and shiny, the top a pink cloud studded with painted cotton balls. More pink floats on top of Betty's head. “What are you doing?” she asks as Betty bounces off her.

“Imma cupcake!” the little girl shouts, running in circles around the kitchen. It's so small that she's not doing much more than turning in place, but her energy fills the entire room.

“Okay sweetie, can you go do that in the living room?” Laura asks, reaching down to stop her. “You look very cute, but I have stuff to do in here.”

Betty pouts, but does as she's told.

“She's been like that all day,” Perry says as she helps Laura unload the groceries from the bags. “Obsessed with cupcakes.”

Laura pauses. This is ringing a bell, she just has to find where. Then it clicks together. “Oh, right. Because of that woman.”

“What woman?”

“A woman we met at the playground yesterday. Betty ran right into her legs.”

From the living room they hear the sound of, “Imma cupcake!” pick back up, accompanied by feet on carpeted floor. Perry sighs and puts her forehead against the cupboard door.

“How was your day besides that?” Laura asks.

“Fine. Picked her up from class. She had a headache earlier and slept for a bit.”

“She seems to be feeling better now,” Laura says with a smile.

Perry smiles back. “Yes, it was just for a little bit. I think she didn't have enough water.”

Laura nods. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

At that moment, Perry's phone goes off, the little _ding_ echoing off the tiles. “One second,” she says, pulling it out. “No, turns out I have to pick Laf up from the lab. They got done early. Or their lab's been quarantined. Their text is unclear.” Perry furrows her eyebrows.

“I'm sure they're just messing with you,” Laura says. “Go on. I'll see you tomorrow?”

Perry slides the phone back into her pocket. “Yes, as always.”

“Don't you _ever_ have class?” Laura asks, opening the fridge.

“I do, in the mornings,” Perry says, almost defensively. “And at night.”

Laura laughs. “I'm just teasing. You should get going.”

The entire time she makes dinner, Laura can hear Betty chanting from the other room. It's a wonder the little girl never gets tired, but somehow she manages to keep going. It takes a lot of cajoling to get Betty out of the costume for dinner, and then Betty spends the entirety of dinner talking about how she and Perry spent the afternoon making it out of chicken wire and cotton balls.

“Why a cupcake?” Laura finally asks, despite her suspicions about the origin of Betty's fascination.

“The lady in the park said I'm a cupcake and that it's impossible to hurt cupcakes,” Betty says, waving her forkful of broccoli around.

“Did she really?” Laura says absentmindedly, reaching over to stop Betty before she flings the vegetable across the room. “And how are you feeling? Perry told me that you had a headache earlier?”

“Yes, but I lay down and drank some water and now I feel better.” And she returns to chattering about cupcakes and her day at school, where she apparently told her entire class that cupcakes are invincible.

By the time Laura tucks her into bed and kisses her forehead, she's about ready to collapse. Betty's enthusiasm is draining, and even as Laura pulls up the covers and wraps them snugly around Betty's shoulders, she's still talking. Her range of topics has increased, but she returns constantly to the cupcake theme. The only time she had been silent was while Laura read her a bedtime story, and after that Laura'd had to talk her out of wearing the cupcake costume to bed.

“Mommy,” Betty says, as Laura brushes the hair away from her eyes.

“Yes sweetie?”

“Are we going to see her again?”

“Who?” Laura should know this, she knows that she should know this, but after an entire day at the office and an entire evening looking after a very excited five-year-old, her brain's about the consistency or maple syrup, and not the thin kind.

“The cupcake lady, at the park.”

“Oh, her. I don't know. Maybe.”

“Can we go back?”

Laura thinks for a moment, unwilling to make a promise she might not be able to keep. “How about next Saturday, okay? When we can go together. But I don't know if she'll be there,” Laura warns her, smoothing her hair again. “She's one person, and this is a big city.”

Betty pouts. “But I want to see her again.”

“We can look, okay? It's time to sleep now though.”

“Okay.” Betty turns on her side and reaches for her stuffed giraffe. “Goodnight.”

“Sleep tight.”

“Don't let the bedbugs bite!” Betty finishes, giggling.

Laura collapses onto the couch, the cupcake costume sitting like a beacon in the center of the room. It's been a long time since she's seen Betty this happy. She's become subdued, quiet, over the past year. Laura hasn't seen this level of energy in she doesn't know how long. An image of the dark-haired woman's face pops into her head. How she'd smiled at Betty, how her face had gotten serious fast when she'd looked up at Laura.

She groans, rubbing her hands across her eyes. This woman is a complete mystery. A complete unknown. Laura has no idea who she is or even if she's a good influence on Betty. But she does know that if she's going to make Betty this happy, Laura wants to see her again.

* * *

 

Carmilla pushes herself further into the couch cushions and rearranges her headphones. Despite the manufacturer's claim that they'll block 99% of the surrounding noise, they clearly weren't designed to eliminate the sound of screaming roommates. She should ask for her money back. Maybe it would help if she turned on her iPod, but it's hard for her to listen to music and study at the same time; it's too distracting, and reading philosophy is difficult already.

There's the sound of shattering glass, and Carmilla stands up so fast her vision momentarily goes black. If they're going to be throwing things again, Carmilla doesn't want to be in the apartment. She's put up with their screaming matches before, but when shit's getting violent, she gets the hell out.

The headphones are left abandoned on the couch as she pads silently down the hall to her room, gathering up her keys and her phone before shutting the door. For the millionth time she thanks high school her for the foresight of learning how to replace doorknobs as the lock clicks into position behind her. The outside door she cares less about, as the danger to her things comes mainly from her roommates. And the things she cares about wouldn't be worth much to anyone else anyway.

For a second she stands outside the front door, book in hand, trying to figure out where to go. Finally, almost against her better judgement, she turns towards the park. The university library is packed with frantic undergrads on the weekends, and even small children beat the smell of desperation wafting off idiot college students.

The park is, as Carmilla anticipated, crowded. Or rather, it has the beginnings of being crowded. One good thing about it not quite being spring yet is that people don't generally leave their homes until the afternoon, when it starts to warm up. She makes a beeline for her bench and settles down, pulling out her phone to check the time. This is only the second time she's been here, but she already considers the bench to be her own.

Within minutes she's buried her nose in her book again, trying to engage herself in a metaphysical discussion of warfare. Carmilla doesn't know if it says more about her roommates or the kids, that it's easier to study in a public area around a bunch of practically unmonitored children than it is in the privacy of her own apartment.

She doesn't know how long she sits there before she looks up again, but she's gone through more than a chapter and a half so she knows it's been a couple hours at least. There are more children, more parents. Some of them Carmilla recognizes vaguely, and she guesses that this must be a weekly sort of event for some people. She represses the urge to roll her eyes. _Suburbians._

“Mommy look!”

The voice sounds familiar and Carmilla turns her head to see the kid from last week, Betty. She's walking towards Carmilla, face lit up, tugging her mother by the hand. Her mother isn't carrying a big book this time, and follows her child with a look of mixed trepidation and relief.

Betty strolls right up to Carmilla and hops onto the bench beside her. “Hi,” she says, as Carmilla lowers her book.

“Hi Cupcake.”

The girl grins really big again and looks up at her mother in excitement. “See Mommy, she does remember me!”

“Who could forget?” her mother says jokingly, still standing. “Sorry to bother you,” she adds to Carmilla. “She wouldn't stop talking about you all week.”

Carmilla tries not to show her surprise. She knew the kid liked being called cupcake, but she'd never thought it would have had that big of an impact.

“I'm Betty!” the little girl announces.

“Hello Betty, I'm Carmilla,” she replies, holding out her hand. Betty hesitates, then takes it. Carmilla wouldn't've thought it possible, but her grin gets even bigger.

“You call me cupcake,” Betty says.

“I sure do, Cupcake,” Carmilla responds, glancing up at Betty's mother.

Betty seems to get distracted, looking across at the jungle gym. “Can I go play?”

“Sure,” her mother says, and Betty runs off. “May I sit?” she asks Carmilla, who nods, a little nervous. Kids are always easy. Adults, not so much.

The woman takes a seat beside Carmilla, dropping her purse between them. “I'm Laura, by the way,” she says, looking at her.

Now that she's close up, Carmilla can tell that she's young, probably younger than Carmilla is by at least a year. She looks very much like Betty, or rather Betty looks like her. They have the same excitableness in their eyes, though Laura's looks much better contained.

“And you are?”

Carmilla realizes that she's been staring at Laura for a solid five seconds at least. “Carmilla.”

“It's good to meet you. It's been a long time since I've seen my daughter so happy about anything. For some reason you really sparked something in her. Who knew that being called a cupcake could have such an effect, right?”

“Right.” Carmilla's never sure what to say. She'd usually be snarky, drive people away, but some part of her puts a stop to that. She doesn't really want the bright-eyed little girl and her mother to leave, but she's not really sure why. So she keeps her answers short, trying to work out how to interact with this woman.

“Anyway, I'm glad you're here again. Betty's been asking about it all week. She made herself a cupcake costume and everything.”

“Really?” Carmilla quickly discovers that it doesn't take a whole lot of prompting to keep Laura talking, and she's actually enjoying listening for once.

“Mommy,” says a voice, and Carmilla looks down, startled once again by the arrival of a little girl.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Laura says, moving over as Betty climbs onto the bench between her and Carmilla.

“I don't feel very good. I'm really tired.”

“Well it's been a very exciting day,” Laura says, wrapping an arm around her daughter. “What do you say we head home? It's almost time for dinner anyway.”

Carmilla turns her wrist to check her watch. It's getting into early evening; she hadn't realized she'd been sitting there so long. “I should probably get going. Paper to write and papers to grade. The fun never ends.”

“Can Carmilla come over sometime?” Betty asks, looking between them.

“Oh, uh...” Laura looks unsure how to respond.

“Like a playdate,” Betty says.

“Maybe,” Laura finally says, looking to Carmilla for confirmation.

“This week is busy, but how about I see you here again, same time next week?” Carmilla offers.

Betty sticks out her lower lip. “No, sooner.”

“Sweetie,” Laura says, leaning over to look Betty in the eye. “Carmilla's busy, she has things to do. A job and school. We'll see her next week, okay?”

“And I'll bring you a cupcake, Cupcake,” Carmilla says, reaching out and ruffling Betty's hair. This has the desired effect and Betty stops looking like she's about to throw a tantrum.

“Okay,” she agrees.

Carmilla hears Laura let out a small sigh of relief before she stands up, picking up her purse. “Alright then, let's get on home. We'll see Carmilla next weekend.”

“Promise?” Betty says, looking up at Carmilla.

“Promise.”

Betty slides off the bench, looking a little unsteady. Her mother leans in and picks her up, and it's only then that Carmilla realizes exactly how small Laura is. Carmilla's not big herself, but Laura's even smaller. But she swings Betty up like she's done it a million times. “Say bye.”

“Bye!” Betty says, waving.

“Bye,” Laura says at the same time.

“See you,” Carmilla responds to both of them, and they turn around. Once again, she watches Laura buckle Betty in, but this time she thinks Laura looks over her shoulder, back at Carmilla, before she gets in and shuts the door.


	2. Sweets

It seems forever until the next weekend rolls around, with Betty asking incessantly if it's Saturday yet and if they can go see Carmilla. Laura can only hope that Carmilla's there, and peers out the front window as she pulls into her parking spot. Carmilla's sitting on her bench, dark hair falling into her face as she stares intently at her book. Betty wriggles in her booster seat, peering out of the window.

“Mommy, she's here!” she says.

“Yes sweetheart, she is. Okay, sit still so I can unbuckle you.” Betty manages to be quiet for the three seconds it takes Laura to remove her seatbelt, then is out of the car almost faster than Laura can see. “Betty, wait for me,” she calls, as she leans over the backseat to pick up her bag. Betty tugs on Laura's pant leg.

“Mooommmmyyyyy,” she whines.

“Let me lock the car, okay,” Laura says, fumbling for her keys. There's the familiar beep and click as the locks slide into place.

“Can we go now?”

“Yes,” Laura says, turning around. “You can go. Be careful!” she calls as Betty takes off across the playground towards the bench. She follows more slowly, watching her daughter bounce up to Carmilla and tap her on the knee. This is a huge change from this morning, when Betty'd had a headache and didn't want to get out of bed. Laura's not sure if Betty feels a whole lot better, because the instant she'd said that they might not be able to see Carmilla, Betty had told her that she _could_ be better, and demanded that Laura let her up.

As Laura approaches, she hears Betty chattering excitedly to Carmilla about her week at school, where they'd made flowers out of tissue paper and hung them on the walls of the classroom.

“Hello,” Laura says, sitting down beside Carmilla.

Carmilla gives her a half-smile. “Hello.”

“Did you bring my cupcake?” Betty asks, interrupting them.

“Betty!” Laura's a little embarrassed, but Carmilla only laughs.

“Yes I did, if your mother says you can have it.”

“Mommy can I please?”

“Only half of it right now.”

Carmilla rustles around in her bag and emerges with a little cardboard box. “I didn't know what you like, so I brought vanilla,” she says, popping the top open. She watches as Laura takes the box and carefully splits the cupcake in half, handing one part to Betty.

“Don't eat it too quick,” she says, but half of it is already gone and Betty's mouth is covered in white frosting.

“How're you?” Laura asks, turning to Carmilla now that her daughter is semi-occupied.

“I'm okay, and you?”

Laura's about to answer when her phone dings, and she gives Carmilla an apologetic smile as she pulls it out quickly to check the front.

“Hey Betty,” she says, and her daughter turns her attention from the cupcake to Laura. “Natalie's here.”

“Where!”

Laura looks around, then, catching sight of Natalie's babysitter, points. “Over there.” Betty's halfway through her first step away when Laura's fingers close around her arm. “No, wipe your face before you go. And what do you say to Carmilla?”

“Thank you!” Betty says as she lets Laura wipe her lips with a napkin. She stumbles a little when Laura lets go of her, but regains her balance and is off before Laura can blink.

Laura watches Carmilla smile as her eyes follow Betty across the playground. “Sorry about that,” Laura says, wiping the frosting from her own fingers. “She gets very energetic when we come to see you, for some reason.”

“I don't mind,” Carmilla replies.

“What're you reading?” Laura asks, by way of conversation.

“Just for class.” Carmilla seems almost embarrassed, but Laura coaxes her into turning it over.

“ _The Large-Scale Structure of Space-Time,_ ” she reads off the front, more than a little surprised. She'd never even thought about that, much less read a book about it.

“It's for my philosophy of physics class,” Carmilla says.

“That can't be easy reading.”

“It's not.”

Somehow Laura manages to get Carmilla talking about herself. She's a first year graduate student in philosophy at Silas University, she likes cats and both classical and rock music, she studies philosophy because she finds the idea of her own existence not meaning much to be very comforting in the long-term, and she works in a bakery downtown. Carmilla seemed very reserved before, but as Laura asks her about her classes and reading, she slowly lets her emotions show, though she's not a particularly animated person by nature. Totally unlike Laura, who talks with her hands and can't stop herself from showing everything on her face.

“I'm sorry,” Carmilla says, running her thumbs nervously over the cover of her book. “This must be boring.”

“No no, really it's not,” Laura says, truthfully. “Well, I'm not entirely sure I understand everything, but I'm enjoying it.” Carmilla doesn't look convinced, and Laura almost involuntarily reaches out to put a hand on her arm. “I really am.”

Carmilla's eyes dart down to Laura's fingers, resting against her skin, and Laura pulls away, worried that she'd done something wrong.

“Mommy?”

Laura has never before in her whole life been so relieved to have Betty disrupting her conversation. “Yes sweetheart?”

Betty puts her hands on Laura's knees. “Can I have my water?”

“Of course.” Laura rummages through her bag for Betty's water bottle and pops it open. Betty sways as she reaches for it, and Laura puts out a hand to steady her. “Careful there. Are you feeling okay?” she asks.

Betty nods her head, her hair escaping from its ponytail.

“I think we should go home,” Laura says.

“Is something wrong?”

Carmilla's face registers real concern when Laura looks at her. “She's fine. She just gets tired easily.”

“No I wanna stay,” Betty says, handing the bottle back to Laura. “I wanna play with Natalie. And Carmilla.”

“Only for a little bit,” Laura says reluctantly. Betty dashes off again, and Laura looks back at Carmilla. “Tell me more about quantum mechanics.” Carmilla laughs, but Laura nods encouragingly at her and she picks the conversation back up.

Half an hour later Betty returns and climbs onto the bench beside them. “Natalie's going home,” she says, reaching for her water bottle again.

“We should too,” Laura says, more firmly this time.

“Can Carmilla come over?” Betty asks, looking between them.

Once again Laura's unsure how to respond, but Carmilla steps up this time. “If your mom says it's okay.” She looks over at Laura.

“Oh yeah, sure. I mean, if you're not busy.” Suddenly Laura feels like she's somehow reached out and touched Carmilla again, that sort of quiet unsurity filling the air.

Carmilla looks up at Laura, then says, “I'm free tomorrow.”

“Can she can she?” Betty asks, grinning. Laura's always been powerless to resist Betty's smile and so she gives in.

“Okay, let me give you our address,” she says, digging through her bag for a piece of paper.

“Here,” Carmilla holds out a pen and her textbook, flipped open to the first blank page. “It's fine,” she says when Laura hesitates.

Laura scribbles down the street address and apartment number before quickly handing the book and pen back. “How does one o'clock sound?” she asks.

“Sounds great.” Carmilla takes the book and smooths her hands over the cover again. This time there's no hint of anxiety.

It's only when Laura's buckling Betty into the car that everything really hits her. She just gave out her address to a strange woman she's only met a couple times so that said strange woman can come have a playdate with her daughter. Laura knows she probably ought to feel at least a little nervous about it, but instead all she feels is anticipation.

* * *

 Danny takes a deep breath before getting out of her car. Laura's apartment complex is big, and Laura lives right in the middle, so she takes deep breaths as she walks. Even though she's had two years to adjust, it still feels weird to talk to Laura. She'd thought it would have gotten better by now, but it hasn't. Danny's beginning to suspect that it never will.

Betty's indistinct voice drifts through the door and Danny smiles before pushing the doorbell. She hears footsteps, then Laura saying, “Betty, can you go sit in the living room?” Seconds later the door is pulled open and Laura's looking out at her.

“Danny, hey,” she says, sounding more than a little surprised.

“Hey,” Danny replies.

“What're you doing here?”

Something inside of her deflates. “I'm here to pick up Betty. This is my week with her.” Danny raises her eyebrows as recognition dawns across Laura's face.

“Oh my god, I totally forgot,” Laura says, stepping aside and gesturing for Danny to come in. “I'm so sorry, I'll go get her things ready.”

Danny closes the door behind her, then makes her way down the narrow hallway into the living room. Betty's sitting on the floor, a pile of Legos in front of her. A multicolored tower rises up from the floor, tiered and windowed. “Hey little bear,” Danny says, and Betty's head whips around.

“Mom!” she cries, and then she's standing up and running towards Danny. Danny stoops down and swoops her up, and she shouts and laughs as she soars through the air. “And I'm not a little bear,” she says, once she's landed safely against Danny.

“No, you're getting so big,” Danny agrees with a grin. “And it hasn't even been that long! You're gonna be a big bear soon.”

Betty puts her arms around Danny's neck and giggles. “I'm gonna be as tall as you!”

“Yes you are,” Danny says, resting her cheek against the top of her daughter's head. “What've you been building?”

She lowers Betty to the floor, then sits beside her as she starts telling Danny about the tower and the little city she's built around it. Danny asks questions and listens intently, but mostly she watches her daughter's bright face. Betty hasn't been this animated in a long time. Though she has her outbreaks of energy, for the most part she's quieter, more subdued than this.

“Danny?”

Danny turns around to see Laura leaning against the doorframe to the hallway, Betty's bag in her hand. “Oh, thanks,” she says, but she doesn't stand up. Betty hasn't even paused in her ramble about her game.

“Hey Betty,” Laura says, crossing to crouch down next to her. Betty looks up at her and she smiles. “This is your week with Mom, I'm sorry I forgot.”

Betty frowns. “But Carmilla's coming over. I wanna see Carmilla.”

“Who's Carmilla?” Danny asks.

“A friend Betty met at the park. She was supposed to come over today, but we can reschedule for next weekend, okay?” Laura reaches out to brush Betty's hair back. “She'll come over then.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” Betty says, getting to her feet. Danny and Laura exchange glances, thankful that Betty hasn't thrown a fit. She's generally a pretty easygoing kid but when she decides to throw a tantrum she throws the tantrum of the century.

“Betty's been pretty excitable this week,” Laura says, running her fingers through Betty's curly brown hair as she and Danny stand up as well.. “She seems to have a lot of energy.”

“Cool,” Danny says, glancing down.

“She still gets tired, so be careful.”

“Laura.” Danny gives Laura a skeptical look. “I can take care of Betty. I know what I'm doing.”

“Yes, of course, I'm sorry. I just get nervous.

“Don't worry, I got this.” Danny smiles at Laura before turning to Betty. “You ready to go, Bear?”

“Yeah.” Laura holds Betty's bag out to Danny, but Betty jumps up, reaching for it. “Can I carry my bag?” she asks.

“Sure sweetheart,” Laura says, handing the bag to her instead. She puts the straps over her shoulders, the bag comically large compared to her. She staggers but manages to right herself, giving her moms a big grin.

“Let's go,” Danny says, turning and heading for the front door with Betty right on her heels.

“Can we see Uncle Kirsch?” she asks as she follows Danny out the door.

“If you want,” Danny replies with a grin.

“Bye Betty,” Laura says, and Betty turns around, reaching up for a hug. Laura wraps her arms around the little girl and kisses her cheek. “See you soon.”

“Bye Mommy.”

Danny knows that Laura won't close the door until she can't see them anymore, and reaches for Betty's hand. She's so much taller that she has to stoop a little so Betty can actually hold her hand.

“Can we get ice cream?” Betty asks as they round the corner, away from Laura's apartment.

“Sure we can.” Danny grins down at her. “But only if you promise to share.”

“No!” Betty says, giggling.

“Uh oh, no ice cream for you then.”

“Okay okay I'll share,” Betty says as Danny hits the unlock button on her keys and then opens the back door of her car. “Let's call Uncle Kirsch,” she says, and Danny nods.

“Of course. Let me buckle you in and we'll see if he's free to hang out, okay Bear?”

The phone rings twice before Kirsch picks up. “Summer Psycho.”

“Hey Kirsch,” Danny says, suppressing her urge to respond with something more insulting. She looks over the back of her seat at Betty, who's watching her wide-eyed.

“What's up?”

“I've got Betty this week, and she wanted to know if you're interested in joining us for ice cream.”

Danny can practically hear Kirsch's smile through the phone. “Sure would! Where and when?”

“Where do you want to go?” Danny asks, turning to look at Betty. “What about Cold Stone?”

“Can I get a big one?”

Danny laughs. “We can talk about that.”

“She's trying to get you to get her a big one right?” Kirsch asks through the phone.

“How did you know?” Danny says jokingly.

“Like mother like daughter.”

“Shut up,” Danny says, turning back around. “Cold Stone it is.”

“And when?”

“Now.”

“On my way. See you soon.”

Danny hangs up and turns the key. The engine purrs into life. “You ready to go, Bear? Uncle Kirsch is going to meet us there.”

Betty's ear to ear smile is enough of a reply.

* * *

 Carmilla checks the clock again. It's moved exactly one minute since she looked at it one minute ago, and she rolls her eyes internally. She couldn't possibly have expected anything else. Wishing does not make time go faster. The second hand tirelessly ticks on, circle after circle after circle...

The bell over the door rings and Carmilla's startled from her reverie. A young man with three school-age children holds the door open while they come in and they all gather around the counter, pointing and exclaiming at the cupcakes behind the glass. Carmilla tries not to be irritated. She'd just finished cleaning the front of the case and now they're getting their dirty finger and nose prints all over it.

“One each,” the man says, leaning over them while they read the names of the cupcakes out loud. He smiles at Carmilla then steps around the kids to stand in front of the pastries. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Carmilla tries to put as much disinterest as she possibly can into that one word but he doesn't seem to catch it.

“How's it going?”

The children shove each other as they try to make their decisions. Carmilla's voice displays only boredom when she says, “Good.” She's not about to ask him the same question.

Thankfully he's interrupted by one of the kids, who stumbles into him and Carmilla seizes the opportunity to go busy herself elsewhere in the bakery. She checks the clock again. Three more minutes have passed. Seven minutes until her shift ends. When she returns to the counter it seems that the kids have all made their decisions. She fetches their cupcakes and rings them up, giving only one-word answers to the man. He's lost interest, or if not interest then the ability to manage three kids and talk to her, and she gratefully watches him herd them towards one of the tables at the front. Two minutes left.

She looks out the window, watching the few Sunday morning shoppers stroll past. Sunday mornings are usually quiet, and that's why Carmilla likes working them. She just has to make a couple batches of cupcakes and sit behind the counter with her textbooks. Today though she hasn't been able to concentrate long enough to even figure out a sentence and instead has spent the morning trying very hard not to think about her plans for this afternoon.

Carmilla's not really sure why she agreed to do it. Or why she offered in the first place. But Betty's a sweet kid, the only thing since she moved here that's really made her feel something close to contentment or happiness. And she likes talking to Laura, who can talk and make Carmilla want to listen, and get Carmilla to talk herself without being self-conscious.

She checks the clock again. Two minutes past. Just for something to do, Carmilla wipes down the counter, wishing that she could clean the glass again. She doesn't think it's particularly polite to do that in front of the customers who messed it up in the first place so she resists the urge. Six minutes past.

It's twelve minutes past the time she was supposed to get off when the bell rings again.

“I'm so sorry,” Perry says as she hurries in. “There was an accident on Green and so I had to take a detour and traffic was awful.”

“It's okay,” Carmilla replies. “It's been a quiet morning.”

“Oh good.” Perry vanishes into the back and Carmilla waits for her to reemerge before picking up her bag and sliding the textbook into it.

“I've got to go,” she says, bending down behind the counter to pull out a little cardboard box. “Don't worry, these are from yesterday,” she says to Perry's disapproving expression.

“Well, if you're sure.” When Carmilla gives her a skeptical look she blushes and says, “Yes, of course. Have a good day.”

“You too,” Carmilla calls as the door rings behind her. Perry's a nice person but sticks far too close to the rules for Carmilla's taste. She switches anxiously from foot to foot as she waits for the bus, trying not to bend the corners of the box in her hands.

* * *

 Danny and Betty are in line, Danny holding Betty up so she can see all the options, when Kirsch taps her on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, and Betty looks around at him with a smile.

“Uncle Kirsch!” She reaches out for him.

“Hey Betty,” he says, taking her from Danny as he joins them in line. “How're you?”

“Mom says I can have a medium one. And that I have to share.”

“That's not surprising. Ice cream already and it's barely noon? What's your mom teaching you?”

Danny rolls her eyes. “Ice cream waits for no one. Besides, you're _always_ down for ice cream.”

“Your mom might actually be right this time,” Kirsch says to Betty. “That doesn't happen a whole lot.”

“I only invited you because Betty likes you, for some reason I can't figure out, so you'd better behave or you won't be getting ice cream with us anymore.”

“Oh now I've gotta be careful, don't want you getting mad at me.” Before Danny has time to respond, he turns his attention back to Betty. “What're you getting, kiddo?”

“Vanilla. With sprinkles!”

Danny orders for herself and Betty, and watches Kirsch joke around with her daughter, poking her stomach and laughing. Laura wasn't kidding – Betty has more energy than ever.

“I invited Lafontaine too,” Danny says, once they've collected their ice cream and are sitting at one of the inside tables.

“I see you didn't wait for me,” says a voice from behind Kirsch, and Danny glances up.

“Speak of the devil.”

“Laffy!”

Lafontaine kneels down to let Betty give them a hug without getting off her chair. “Hey Betty. I have something for you.” They reach into their pocket and pull out a little toy car, setting it on the table beside her. “Perry accidentally brought this home on Friday. I think you put it in her purse.”

Betty reaches out and rolls the wheels against the metal surface of the table.

“Hey Danny, Kirsch,” Lafontaine says, standing up.

“Ice cream's that way, nerd,” Kirsch says, licking his spoon clean and gesturing with it towards the counter.

“Thanks, peabrain,” Lafontaine responds, giving him a withering look.

Danny laughs with Betty as Lafontaine steps away, towards the counter. The rest of the afternoon is spent in much the same way, with the three of them joking around as Betty's car drives up and down the mountains of their arms and backs. It's mid-afternoon when Lafontaine checks their watch and says they have to go, and Kirsch does the same, claiming he has plans.

“Can we call Elise and Natalie?” Betty asks, once Danny's pulled onto the freeway and they're headed home.

“I think you've had a lot of excitement for today,” Danny says, glancing over her shoulder at Betty. “And you look very tired.”

“I'm not,” Betty protests, but Danny knows she's just saying that.

“Maybe they can come over sometime later this week,” she suggests instead.

“Okay.” Betty doesn't have the energy to protest a whole lot more, and by eight o'clock she's curled up in Danny's lap on the couch, complaining about feeling sick. Danny reads to her quietly, waiting until she's sure Betty's asleep, before carrying her upstairs and tucking the blankets around her. For a second she watches Betty breathe, her little back rising and falling under the bear-patterned quilt Danny's mother made for Betty's second birthday.

Back downstairs, she reads her way through the entire stack of starter chapter books sitting on her coffee table. The whole house feels more alive, knowing that Betty is upstairs, and all Danny wants is to call Laura.

* * *

 Laura shuts the door once she can't hear Danny and Betty's voices anymore and turns around, trying to adjust to the silence in the apartment. When Betty's here Laura always forgets exactly how much energy she brings to the place. She's happy that Betty and Danny have a good relationship – she wouldn't want her kid to grow up only knowing one of her parents, but it's always hard to let her go.

She's just settled down with her GRE book when she remembers that Carmilla is still coming over. And Laura doesn't have her phone number to cancel. She hauls herself up from the couch and sets about doing the dishes, so that her apartment looks more like it belongs to someone with their life together and less like it belongs to an overworked mother.

Laura gets so caught up in cleaning that when the doorbell rings again she has to check the time to make sure it's really Carmilla.

“Hey,” Carmilla says, a little shyly, when Laura opens the door.

“Hey,” Laura responds without moving.

“I brought cupcakes.” Carmilla raises the thin cardboard box she's holding in front of her. The top reads _Let Them Eat Cake_ with a drawing of a cupcake that could only be described as elegant.

“Oh, thank you. Why don't you come in?” Betty isn't even here, but still Laura's inviting this strange mostly unknown woman into her apartment. Maybe it's better that Betty isn't here, if Carmilla does have some sort of notorious background Laura's not aware of.

Carmilla steps into the apartment like the floor might fall out from underneath her.

“The kitchen is right around the corner,” Laura says as she shuts the door. “If you want to put the cupcakes down.” She follows Carmilla into the little room and gestures to the counter. “Put them anywhere.”

Carmilla looks around, and Laura's glad she took the time to do her dishes. “Where's Betty?” Carmilla asks, glancing towards the kitchen door.

“Oh, uh,” Laura pauses. “She's not really..... here..... right now.”

Carmilla fixes her eyes on Laura and raises her eyebrows. “And where is she?”

“I totally forgot that it's Danny's week with her,” Laura says, wishing she could kick herself. “And I was going to call and let you know but then I realized that I didn't have your number so I couldn't very well do that, and....” she trails off.

“But you invited me in anyway?” Carmilla's expression is unreadable – it could mean a million different things and Laura's not even sure she wants to know which one it does mean.

“I.... yes.”

“Well then,” is all Carmilla says in response. There's a moment, then, “And Danny is Betty's father?”

Laura laughs, and Carmilla's expression changes from inscrutable to surprised. “I'm sorry,” Laura says, gathering herself. “No, um, Danny's not Betty's dad.” Now Carmilla looks totally confused, and Laura takes a deep breath before saying, “Danny's her other mother.”

“Oh, that's cool,” Carmilla says. “Is Betty....” It's clear that she's not entirely sure how to frame her question, but Laura catches the gist. It's the question that most people ask once they find out about Danny. If they haven't fled the scene.

“I gave birth to Betty,” Laura explains. “But Danny and I have joint custody. She travels a lot for her job and is very busy, so I usually have Betty.”

“Oh,” Carmilla repeats. “Betty looks like you. You have the same eyes.”

“Thank you.” Carmilla looks at the floor and if Laura's not mistaken, her cheeks are tinged at least a little pink. “Now that you're here, do you want something to drink? Or something to eat, have you had lunch?”

“Water would be nice.”

When they both have glasses of ice water, Laura gestures towards the living room. “Should we perhaps sit somewhere more comfortable?”

Carmilla smiles, seemingly recovered from her earlier shyness, then follows Laura's lead and takes a seat on the couch. “So I told you all about me,” Carmilla says. “It's your turn.”

Laura's sure that's not true, as nothing in their discussion had even remotely approached an explanation of the reserve evident in Carmilla's every action, but she doesn't press the point. “There's not much to tell,” Laura says, tucking her feet up underneath her. “I went to high school, went to college, had a kid. Here I am.”

“What do you do?” Carmilla asks. “For a living, I mean.”

“I work as a secretary. At the local news station.” Laura's resigned herself to this job, and for the most part she doesn't hate it, which is more than she'd expected when she started.

“What do you want to do?”

The question takes Laura aback. Nobody had ever thought to ask her that, at least not since Betty had been born. She knows what she wants, but saying it is more difficult than it ought to be. “I want... I want to be a journalist. A reporter.”

“Is that why you work at the news station?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

Carmilla hasn't taken her eyes off Laura, and Laura looks away, rubbing the condensation off the outside of her glass before taking a sip.

“I'm going back to school.” The words slip out of her as she lowers her glass, like they'd been waiting for her to open her mouth and give them a chance to escape.

“Really?”

“Well, I hope to. I'm studying for the GRE.” Laura leans down and pulls her GRE book out of the end table, setting down her glass so she can hold it up to Carmilla. Carmilla sets down her own glass and scoots closer so she can take the book. The pages flip easily under her fingers as she shuffles through them, eyes scanning Laura's notes and sticky tabs.

“So this is what you were writing in.” She glances up at Laura's puzzled expression then looks down again, cheeks slightly pink once more. “I saw you working in it once. The first day we met. When Betty ran into me.”

The thought that Carmilla had noticed her, even before they'd talked, gives Laura a funny fuzzy feeling somewhere in her chest. “Yeah, I like to study at the park. Betty's off playing and it's one of the few times that I have even a little space to myself.”

“Except when Danny has Betty,” Carmilla says.

“Right.” Laura's not sure what to make of Carmilla. She's all questions nobody's asked before, all observation and conclusions. Even when her reserve starts to come down again, more quickly now than it had before, there's something utterly unreachable about her. It's not the type of unreachable that some people are though, where it makes Laura want to back off and give them space, but the type of unreachable that feels like it's fluttering just beyond her fingertips, and all she has to do is lean a little closer and she'll catch it. Like it's a butterfly she can almost see, but not quite.

The light starts to fade from the windows and Laura gets up to turn a couple lamps on, offering Carmilla food or water again.

Carmilla gives her a mischievous grin, then says, “What about a cupcake?”

Laura laughs as she fetches the box from the kitchen. The cupcakes are pristine, and Laura pulls out a chocolate one while Carmilla reaches for a red velvet.

“Are you sure you don't want something more substantial?” Laura asks, as Carmilla stretches out her shoeless feet to rest on the coffee table.

“Buttercup, it's fine. I'd let you know if I wanted anything.”

The nickname feeds the fuzzy feeling in Laura's chest, but she still has a hard time keeping the doubt out of her voice when she says, “Okay.” She follows Carmilla's example, peeling the silver wrapper off the cupcake and dropping it on the coffee table.

Their conversation is easy, and smooth, topics flowing together like water. Carmilla's interesting and interested and the distance between them gradually diminishes as time passes.There's a lapse in their conversation, the first since they started talking, and Laura suddenly realizes exactly how close they are. Carmilla's cool exterior has become significantly warmer, and Laura's fallen into a level of comfort she hasn't felt in a long time.

Carmilla shifts, readjusting her legs, and her shoulder brushes Laura's. The fuzzy feeling reaches up her throat and Laura looks over at Carmilla. The overhead light is off, and the room is lit only by the yellowish glow of the lightbulbs through lampshades. Carmilla's face is cast in profile, her hair reflecting the light into a million shards.

Laura can't help herself. She reaches out and touches Carmilla's arm again, like she had in the park. Carmilla stills, but Laura doesn't pull away this time. Instead, Carmilla looks back at her, their noses half an inch apart, her dark eyes unfathomable, even when they're this close. Carmilla's eyes flick to Laura's lips, and Laura half sees her start to lean in before she suddenly pulls away.

Carmilla sits up, reaching towards the floor for her shoes. “I should go,” she says, not looking at Laura.

“Oh, are you sure?” Laura shakes her head, trying to refocus on what's going on instead of what had almost happened.

“Yeah, it's getting late and I have class tomorrow morning.” Carmilla stands up, and Laura follows her down the hallway towards the door.

“Well, maybe I'll see you next weekend,” Laura says. Now Carmilla does look at her, and Laura almost quails when she sees the reserve that's suddenly back between them. “I mean... I'm sure Betty would love to see you. She was very disappointed about missing you today.”

“Sure,” Carmilla says, opening the door and stepping outside. “Next weekend.”

“Bye!” Laura calls, and Carmilla vanishes into the dark.

Laura locks the door once Carmilla's out of sight and flops facedown onto her couch with a groan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cold Stone is a real place, or rather a real chain, and I wasn't up for thinking of a cute name so I'm using a culturally appropriate one. And I'm aware that Let Them Eat Cake is also a real place though I didn't know that until after I'd named the store and then thought to Google it. Jsyk.
> 
> UPDATE 6/5/2015 -- for y'all who have been asking yes I will update this, it has not been abandoned. I am currently dying as I do things like write 10pg papers and study for 3hr exams. Once I survive finals week I PROMISE I will update again. Pinkie swear. Y'all can't get rid of me that easy.


	3. Minds Wander Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA!! Told you I'd update again. :D

The park is becoming Carmilla's study space. She's not really sure entirely how it happened. At the beginning it had more to do with Laura and Betty than anything else. Now though, she finds herself wanting to sit there more and more, and not just out of a strong desire to avoid her housemates.

As she locks the door on Wednesday afternoon, she swears to herself that never again will she find roommates through the internet, and never again sign a lease with a couple. Too unpredictable. She slides her keys into the front pocket, then shoulders her bag and heads towards the park. It's not quite afternoon yet, and she'd stopped at home after her class to drop off the pile of papers she'd collected from the Intro Philosophy class she's TA-ing. Carmilla groans internally just thinking about it. Looks like she's in for another weekend drowning in trite, uninspiring undergraduate papers. She hopes she was never like that as an undergrad.

The park is completely empty except for the occasional jogger, and Carmilla claims her bench, pulling out her textbook. Space-time is a lot more boring than the name makes it sound, and far more complicated than Carmilla had expected it to be. She can never decide what to highlight – not only does it all seem important, but every sentence takes a significant amount of time to decipher, even after four years of practice.

Slowly people begin to arrive at the park, parents with their kids, who they either leave in strollers, or who are let loose on the play structure. Carmilla was already having a hard time focussing, and this does nothing to help. Ever since Sunday night concentrating has been difficult. Ever since what happened at Laura's-

She shakes her head to cut the thought off and returns to her book, trying to parse a particularly difficult sentence, making notes in the margin. Her mind wanders away, and she finds herself staring blankly across the park, aggressively thinking about nothing. Something bright and red flashes across her field of vision and she recognizes Perry's bright mane of hair. Quickly Carmilla looks down at her book again, hoping the Perry won't see her.

She's made it through another two sentences before she hears Perry's voice say, “Carmilla?”

Repressing a groan, Carmilla looks up. “Perry? Hey!” she says, feigning surprise.

“What're you doing here?”

Carmilla holds up her textbook. “Trying to read this.”

“May I join you?” Perry holds up a book of her own.

It takes all of Carmilla's willpower to smile and say, “Of course.”

But Perry doesn't open her book when she sits down, instead smoothing her hands across the cover and riffling the page corners. “I'd never have expected to see you here,” Perry says, looking over at Carmilla.

“I never expect me to be here either.” Carmilla refuses to shut her own book. That might send the wrong message. Like she might want to actually talk.

“Carmilla!” Betty comes flying across the park and climbs up on the bench beside her.

Carmilla gives Perry a glance before looking down at Betty. “Hey Cupcake,” she says with a smile. When she looks up again, Perry's eyes are narrowed, realization dawning across her face. “What?”

“It was you who sparked that insane cupcake fanaticism in her.” It's a statement, not a question.

“How did you know-” Suddenly it clicks. “Betty's the little girl you nanny for?”

“Yeah. We've been working together for months and I can't believe we didn't know this.”

Carmilla shrugs. “Well, I haven't known Betty for all that long.”

“Are you friends?” Betty asks, tugging on Perry's shirt.

“Yes, sweetie, we are.”

“We both work at the cupcake shop,” Carmilla says, and Betty's eyes light up.

“You _both_ work at the cupcake shop?”

Perry pats the top of Betty's head. “Yes we do. Why don't you go play with Natalie? And I think Elsie's here too.”

Betty looks up at Carmilla, little brow furrowed. “Will you still be here later?”

“I, um,” Carmilla hesitates, glancing at Perry. “I'll try to be. I have lots of things to do.”

“Kay.” Betty slides off the bench.

“Don't tire yourself out,” Perry says, and Betty nods before turning and running off towards the swings.

“This is such a coincidence,” Perry says, turning back to Carmilla.

“Yeah.” Now that Betty's actually shown up, Carmilla's not sure why she came here in the first place. She likes Betty and doesn't want really to see Laura not after – but now that Betty's here and Laura's not, some deep part of her feels weirdly disappointed.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” Perry gives Carmilla a look and Carmilla shrugs. “What?”

“I know something's up. You're usually moody but this is different.”

“Nothing's up.”

“Carmilla, you can't keep it bottled up inside, that'll just cause more problems. Talk to me. I promise I won't breathe a word.”

Carmilla knows the look in Perry's eye. It's that look that means she's not going to give up until she gets what she wants, but Carmilla's not going to let her win. Not this time. “No really, it's nothing.”

“It's about a girl.” Perry's already won, it seems, so Carmilla sighs and shuts her eyes. “I knew it. What's up?”

Telling Perry about Laura is definitely not what she wants to do. Perry knows Laura, far better than Carmilla does, and Carmilla has never been good with people or feelings. Plus she can already anticipate Perry's advice. _Just talk to her! Good communication is important._

“Really it's nothing. Not a girl. Just a class thing. Dumb students, you know how it is.”

Perry frowns disapprovingly at Carmilla and looks out at the play structure. Carmilla does the same, looking for Betty among the screaming children. It takes her a moment to find the little girl, because Betty isn't on the play structure anymore, but instead is walking towards them, looking tired.

“You okay?” Perry asks, concerned.

Betty nods her head as she comes to stand in front of them. “I don't feel good. Can we go home?”

“You were fine three minutes ago,” Perry says, but it's not a protest; instead it's worry that tinges her voice.

“I know, I just got tired all of a sudden,” Betty says, looking over at Carmilla.

“You okay, Cupcake?”

Betty smiles at the nickname, then nods again. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“Maybe we should get you home.” Perry looks over at Carmilla. “I guess I'll see you at work.”

“Guess so.”

Betty reaches for Carmilla, eyes wide. “Can you come home with us?”

“No, Carmilla has things to do,” Perry says, cutting in. “She can talk to your mom okay? And she can maybe come over later.”

Betty looks back at Carmilla. “Will you?”

“Yes, if your mom wants me to,” Carmilla says. The certainty in her voice is surprising even to herself.

* * *

Perry has seen this painting a million times. Or at least it feels like it, since she waits in the hall every time she comes to pick Lafontaine up, and there's nothing else to look at. Usually she doesn't have to wait that long, but for some reason today Lafontaine is taking longer than usual.

“I'm so sorry Perr,” comes a voice from behind her, and she turns around. Lafontaine is closing the door to the lab behind them, brushing their hands over their shirt to smooth it. “I got caught up in the lab and lost track of time. I hope you weren't waiting that long.”

“It's okay,” Perry says. That's mostly true at least – Perry likes punctuality, but she's learned that Lafontaine isn't always as dedicated as she is. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yes,” Lafontaine says, gesturing towards the door, then stepping to hold it open for Perry. “I actually think we might be making progress.”

Perry smiles at their excitement. “That's good!”

Lafontaine shrugs. “Well, progress is slow, but I think we're finally on the right track.”

“Your work is important,” Perry says. “Cancer is important.” Lafontaine nods, but doesn't say anything, and after a moment Perry continues, “Guess who I ran into at the park today?”

“Oh my god is it that one per-”

“Carmilla.”

Lafontaine squints their eyes for a moment as they get to the car, pausing with their hand on the handle. “That girl you work with? The one from the cupcake shop?”

“Yeah, you met her when you picked me up one day, remember?”

“She doesn't seem like the outdoors type.”

“Get this though: she knows Betty.”

“No way.” Lafontaine pulls the car door open. “How?”

“Turns out they met at the park. Small world, huh?”

Lafontaine nods. “Guess so.”

* * *

“When do I go back to Mommy?” Betty asks Danny from across the dinner table, and Danny looks up at her, surprised.

“Tomorrow, little bear. Why do you ask?”

Betty puts another bite of pasta in her mouth. “She said Carmilla could come over this weekend.”

“That's your new friend from the park, right?” When Perry had dropped Betty off on Wednesday she'd mentioned that they'd run into a girl Betty knew at the park, but Danny hadn't thought too much about it. Until now, when the name sparked the memory of picking Betty up. She'd mentioned the same girl then.

“Yeah.”

Danny tries to push away the bad feelings that crawl up her throat when Betty says this. She's not in Betty's life a whole lot already, and it's hard to feel like her daughter would rather be with Laura than with her. Or with this new friend. She tries to console herself by reminding herself that it's for work, that she has a job that doesn't give her the option of not traveling, and that if she could she would be around more, but she's supporting Betty. It's a flimsy cover for her insecurity, but she clings to it.

“So you like this Carmilla?”

Betty gives Danny a huge grin, showing all of the pasta sauce stuck between her teeth. “Yeah! She's always reading these big books though.” She pauses, then says, “Can we read a book tonight?”

“Of course. What do you want to read?”

It takes Betty almost thirty minutes to finish dinner and then choose a book, sorting through the piles of them on the floor of her room while Danny does dishes. It's very late when they finally land on the couch, but Danny doesn't want to make Betty go to bed yet. When they finish the first book, Betty hands Danny another one, looking expectantly up at her. It takes seven books for Betty to drift into sleep, curled up on Danny's lap.

Betty's curly hair tickles Danny's chin, and she turns to rest her cheek on the top of her daughter's head. She remembers when Laura was pregnant, the way Danny would lay her ear against Laura's stomach and tell herself she could hear Betty's heartbeat, she would lay her hands on the sides of Laura's bump and feel Betty move around, her little feet kicking out at the world.

Now, Danny tightens her arms around Betty, listening to her breathe quietly, feeling her chest rise and fall, slowing as she falls into deeper sleep.

* * *

The textbook hits the wall with a dull thud before landing quietly in a pile of laundry. Carmilla looks down at her hands, then for good measure throws her pen and highlighter across the room as well. As she hears them bounce off the wall, she rolls over on her bed and groans into her pillow.

Her concentration is shot, and she wishes she could blame it on her stupid textbook and those stupid undergrad papers she should be grading and her stupid classes but she knows that it's not any of those things. She could fix those. Well maybe not the textbook, but the other two could probably be made less unbearable.

Instead it's Laura. And how Carmilla had pulled away. And how they had almost-

Carmilla throws her pillow against the wall as well, though it doesn't make as satisfying a noise as the textbook. She tries to think of something, anything, that is not Laura, but everything else is shoehorned aside to make space for the memory of that couch and that night a week ago.

“Fuck it,” Carmilla mutters to herself, standing up. She might as well go see Laura, since it doesn't seem like she'll get any peace of mind until she does.

* * *

Laura's finishing the dishes when she sees Danny and Betty turn the corner of the neighboring apartment. Danny's so tall she has to stoop to hold Betty's hand, and they're smiling and laughing about something. She can't stop herself from smiling in response – the apartment always feels so empty when Betty is gone, and she's looking forward to having her daughter back.

She pulls the door open as they approach, waving at them.

“Mommy!!” Betty calls, releasing Danny's hand and dashing over to Laura.

“Hey Betty,” Laura says, kneeling to give Betty a hug. She looks up as Danny crosses the threshold, then stands. “Why don't you go put your stuff away?”

Betty looks up at Danny, who swings the bag off her shoulder and holds it out. “Is Carmilla coming?” Betty asks.

“I don't know, sweetie.”

“Can you call her?” Betty asks, pouting, and Laura shakes her head,.

“Not right now. Go put your bag away okay?”

Betty takes the bag and heads towards her room, still pouting.

“How was she?” Laura asks, turning to Danny.

Danny smiles. “Good, as always. She seemed to have more energy than usual.”

Laura can't stop herself from glancing at the door to the hallway before looking back at Danny. “She has seemed happier lately,” she agrees.

“Do you know why?”

Laura hesitates, then shakes her head again. “No.” She doesn't want to talk about Carmilla with Danny. With anyone really, though what happened on Sunday has run around in her head all week. Or rather what almost happened.

“I guess it doesn't really matter,” Danny says, seeming not to notice Laura's pause. “What matters is that she's happy.”

There's a moment of silence before Laura says, “And how was school?”

“Good. She did all her homework and we read a lot. Especially last night. We must have read ten books at least.”

Laura nods a little absentmindedly, then glances at Danny again. Danny's eyes are fixed on her, intense and blue, and Laura feels like something is coming. Like Danny is gearing up to say something. She always used to give Laura that look right before did.

“We missed you.”

It takes Laura a second to process exactly what it is that Danny's said, and before she's finished Danny continues, voice quieter than before. “I miss you.”

Laura's not sure how to respond, or even if there is a proper way to respond, so she doesn't say anything. Thankfully, before Danny has the chance to say something else, the doorbell rings.

“One second,” Laura says, moving quickly towards the door, probably more quickly than she would under different circumstances, but she doesn't really care to be polite at this particular moment.

“Are you expecting someone?” Danny asks. Laura pretends not to hear. She's both afraid and hopeful that it will be Carmilla, but mostly she's just relieved that it's gotten her out of the situation. Coming up with a response to something like that requires more brainpower than Laura's willing to give right now.

“Hey,” Carmilla says when Laura opens the door. She gives Laura a small smile, and Laura can't help but to smile back.

“Hey.”

“Laura?”

Carmilla peers over Laura's shoulder when Danny talks, looking for the source of the noise. “Is this a bad time?”

The part of Laura that's panicking over dealing with Danny says, “No, no of course not. Come in,” and steps aside. The part of Laura that's rational is not so sure that's a good idea.

“Um, thanks,” Carmilla says, stepping into the apartment.

Danny's eyebrows are raised so high Laura's surprised they're still visible, but Danny doesn't say anything as she follows Laura and Carmilla back down the hallway and into the living room. Laura's trying to come up with the best way to introduce Danny and Carmilla when there's the sound of small feet pattering down the hallway.

“Carmilla!!” Betty cries, and then she's bouncing around Carmilla's feet.

“Hey Cupcake,” Carmilla says, kneeling down to give Betty a hug.

“You're Carmilla?” Danny asks, incredulous.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“I just didn't think you were an adult. I thought you'd be a kid.”

Carmilla looks like she's about to make a sassy reply when Betty taps on her leg to get her attention. “Do you want to see my legos?”

“Sure,” Carmilla says, but her usual playfulness is gone, replaced with a sort of guarded worry.

“Why don't you bring your legos out here, little bear?” Danny says, and Betty nods before turning around.

“Don't go anywhere,” she says as she vanishes, and Carmilla laughs.

“I'll be right here.” She stands up and looks between Laura and Danny. “You must be Danny.”

“I am,” Danny says, nodding.

“It's nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

This is worse than what Danny had said, Laura decides. There's still the feeling of those words hanging in the air and now whatever it is that's happening between Danny and Carmilla fills the room. And it's not a good whatever, it's the type of thing that precedes a blowout fight.

“Carmilla! Look!” Betty bounces back into the room, holding up a lego spaceship. She makes _zoom_ ing noises and flies it towards Carmilla, then holds it up so she can see.

“That's amazing,” Carmilla says, looking down at it. “Spaceship, right?”

“Right!” Betty flies the spaceship away across the room to land on the couch. “Come see what it can do!” Carmilla gives Laura a look before following the little girl.

Laura feels rather than sees Danny step closer. “Are you sure it's okay for Betty to be playing with this woman?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” Laura asks, turning to look at Danny. It's not to her advantage that Danny is so much taller, and Laura wishes she were more intimidating when she glares at her.

“How did you even meet her?” Danny asks, leaning a little down and lowering her voice, so Carmilla can't hear her. “At the park? Laura, that can't be safe.”

“Why? Do you really think I'd put our daughter in danger?” Laura's not about to admit that she'd had similar thoughts about Carmilla. She doesn't want to explain her feeling that Carmilla is trustworthy. “I've never left Carmilla alone with Betty, and so far she hasn't given me any reason not to trust her.”

“I just worry, about strange women and my daughter.”

“She's my daughter too,” Laura responds, her anger rising up. It's just like Danny to try to micromanage Laura's care of Betty, to tell Laura what she should and should not do.

“That's not what I'm saying.”

“Laura,” Carmilla calls, but her voice barely registers in Laura's head.

“Then what are you saying?”

As Danny opens her mouth to respond, Carmilla calls again, louder this time, “Laura!”

Laura turns to face Carmilla, still angry, so it takes her brain longer than usual to recognize what she's seeing. Carmilla's arms are wrapped around Betty, who is shaking so hard Carmilla can barely hold onto her. Laura doesn't remember crossing the living room but suddenly she's kneeling on the floor, reaching for her daughter.

“Oh my god,” she hears herself say, but it feels distant.

“Call an ambulance!” Carmilla says, but Laura can't move, she can't think, she can't do anything but watch her daughter shake.


	4. So Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost everything I know about hospitals I learned from Grey's Anatomy, which is, as I'm sure we are all aware, a 100% accurate portrayal of the healthcare system.

“Honey, your phone is ringing,” Lafontaine calls from the kitchen as they stack dishes in the sink.

“Can you get that for me?” Perry calls back.

Lafontaine half dries their hands with a towel, then reach quickly for Perry's phone. “This is the Perr-ster,” they say as they put it up to their ear.

“Laf?”

“Danny, hey. One moment.” Lafontaine puts a hand over the speaker and holds the phone away from their mouth as they shout, “It's Danny!”

“Stop yelling,” Perry says, emerging from the living room with a large bowl. “I'll take it.” Lafontaine hands her the slightly damp phone, taking the bowl from her hands.

“Hello Danny,” Perry says, raising her eyebrows at Lafontaine. “What's happening?” Through the phone Danny takes a deep, shaky breath, and Perry's eyebrows contract. “Is everything okay?” Lafontaine pauses halfway through washing the bowl to look around at her.

“No, not really,” Danny finally says. “Betty's in the hospital.”

“Oh my god what happened? Is she okay?” Perry's eyes are as round as quarters, and Lafontaine puts the bowl down and rinses the soap off their hands before reaching for Perry.

“She had a seizure.”

“Do you know what caused it? Did she lose consciousness? Have you talked to a doctor yet?”

“No, we don't. We haven't talked to a doctor, and I don't know when we will.”

“What can I do?” Perry asks, exchanging horrified looks with Lafontaine.

Danny sighs. “Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to work tomorrow.”

“Can we come see her? Lafontaine and I, I mean.”

“Maybe not tomorrow,” Danny says. “Tuesday might be better. I'll call you with an update and let you know.”

“Of course,” Perry says, and the call cuts out as Danny hangs up. She can't find words as she looks at Lafontaine, seeing her own shock and worry mirrored in their eyes.

Lafontaine doesn't say anything, just reaches for her and wraps their arms around her, pulling Perry tight against them. “It will be okay,” they say into Perry's hair.

“How do you know?”

Lafontaine sighs, before saying, “I don't. But I'm trying not to worry. We don't even know what happened yet. It could be nothing serious.”

Perry nods against their chest, oddly reassured by their uncertainty. “We don't know yet,” she repeats quietly to herself.

* * *

The nurse's footsteps echo on the tiled floor, but Laura doesn't look at him until he stops in front of where she sits with Danny and Carmilla. Too many times she's looked up hopefully, only to have the nurse give her a sad look as they walk by, their news not intended for her. She pulls her unfocussed eyes from the wall and sits up straight, running her fingers through her hair.

“Ms Hollis? Ms Lawrence?” the nurse asks quietly.

“What's happening?”

“I can take you to see your daughter now,” the nurse says, and takes a step back.

Danny and Laura stand up at the same time, but Carmilla hesitates before rising.

“I should go,” she says quietly.

Laura blinks like she's trying to process Carmilla's words, but before she can respond, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and says, “That might be best.”

“I'll see you... later, I guess,” Carmilla says, looking at Laura. Laura gives Carmilla a dazed half nod before turning around to look at the nurse again. The sound of Carmilla's receding footsteps drowns underneath Laura's and Danny's as the nurse leads them into the depths of the pediatric ward.

The walls are painted with trees and grass, butterflies trailing dotted lines above oversized flowers. There are glass windows along the walls, looking into the rooms, most of them curtained with patterned fabric, which makes the corridors look more cheerful than it should. Every time they pass a door Laura's reminded of why they're there. Most doors are propped open, and in the darkness behind them she can hear wheezing breaths or the echo of a moving machine. The fluorescent lights seem overly bright in the dark, the nurses walking quietly past them washed out against their scrubs.

It's only the warmth and weight of Danny's hand against her shoulder blade that guides Laura forward. Everything else is mostly a blur, an impression, something that she can see and remember but can't find words for. And none of them are Betty.

It feels like hours of walking through a maze of halls before the nurse finally gestures to a door on their left. “She's in here.” He steps aside to let Danny and Laura precede him in.

The room, like the others, is dark, all the lights off and the curtains drawn over the windows to the outside. Laura pauses just inside the doorway, then the nurse flips a switch and dim lights turn on overhead.

The machines surrounding Betty beep quietly, small flashing lights indicating things Laura has no way of knowing or understanding. She tries not to think about them as she crosses the room to stand beside her daughter. Betty looks so small against the pillow, under the thick blanket that's been draped over her. Laura reaches out to take Betty's hand, and is surprised to find it warm. For some reason, she hadn't been expecting that. Maybe she'd felt like the cold atmosphere of the hospital should have sucked the heat from her daughter's body, but it's grounding to feel as though Betty is still alive, still okay, even if she feels so far away.

Danny puts one arm around Laura and reaches out with the other to cover both her and Betty's hands where they lie on the bed. Laura leans into her, taking deep breaths, trying not to break into sobs she didn't know she'd been fighting.

“You two can stay here, if you like,” the nurse says, and both Danny and Laura turn to look at him. “The doctor will be here sometime early tomorrow to talk to you. Until then, she's stable.” He gestures across the room and Laura follows his arm to see several uncomfortable-looking chairs lined up against the wall.

“Why so long?” Danny asks. “Shouldn't we see someone tonight?”

“The test results haven't come through yet, and we won't know any more until then.”

“Thank you,” Danny says, and he gives them a smile and a nod before leaving.

“I'm staying,” Laura says looking back down at Betty.

“I'll get you a chair.”

Laura reaches out to brush one hand through Betty's curls, trying with little success to untangle them.

“Here.” Danny puts her hand on Laura's shoulder again to get her attention, sliding the chair forward so Laura can sit. She puts another chair beside it and joins Laura, who's still holding Betty's hand. The little girl shifts in her sleep.

Laura shivers, and Danny reaches out to wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. Laura rests her head on Danny's shoulder and sighs. She doesn't think she'll be able to close her eyes.

* * *

Danny doesn't know when she falls asleep, but when she wakes up, the sky is barely brightening from black to blue. Laura's still asleep against Danny's shoulder, but when she feels Danny move her head, she mutters and shifts, then sits up.

She looks at the room, then at Betty, still asleep in the huge hospital bed, dwarfed even by the pillow. “Oh no.” Laura leans forward and buries her face in her hands. “Oh no oh no.” Danny rubs a hand along Laura's back, but doesn't say anything. “I was hoping it was all a nightmare.”

“I know,” Danny says, leaning forward as well. “It will be okay.”

“But what if it's not?” Tears fill Laura's eyes as she looks over at Danny. “What if... what if....” She can't seem to bring herself to finish the sentence.

“I think you need something to eat,” Danny says. “You haven't eaten in twelve hours. Probably more.”

“What time is it?”

Danny leans to one side so she can pull out her phone to check. “Five-thirty.”

“So early.” Laura reaches for Betty's hand and turns it over between her fingers. Danny watches, mesmerized by the way Laura touches her daughter, the way her fingers move so gently and so carefully over Betty's skin.

“You should eat,” Danny says, pulling herself from her dream.

“I don't want to leave.” Laura doesn't look at Danny, even when Danny reaches out to touch her.

“Laura.” At her tone, Laura finally does look over, her fingers stilling. “You need to eat. The hospital cafeteria is probably closed, but I saw a vending machine down the hall. It's not much, but it'll be something, at least.”

Laura nods, leaning back. “Sure.”

“What do you want?”

“Anything with sugar.”

Danny laughs quietly, despite the situation. “I remember.” She stands and stretches, her back aching from the hours spent slumped in the uncomfortable hospital chair.

Outside Betty's room, the hospital seems to be getting busier. There are more doctors and nurses, and people sitting in the waiting room. There's a rattling sound behind her, then a voice says, “Excuse me.”

“Oh sorry.” Danny steps aside and looks over her shoulder. The wheels of a hospital bed rattle against the floor, and the kid sitting in it grins at Danny. His head is shaved, and his skin is pale, almost yellowish. She can practically see his bones through his skin. Danny can't make herself look away, can't make herself smile back. She gets a sudden image of Betty like that, Betty thin and wan, her bright eyes dulled, her smile extinguished. Danny forces herself to keep walking, to look for the blue box, to finish her mission.

“Here,” she says two minutes later, holding a bag of cookies out to Laura. “They didn't have your favorite, but maybe this will do.”

The corners of Laura's mouth twitch in what might have been almost a smile as she takes them, then pulls them open as quietly as possible. Danny opens her bag of pretzels and looks down at them. Every time she sees Laura and Betty together, she's struck by how similar they look. Betty has little of her father; she could almost be a miniature Laura. Now though, Laura looks tired and scared, and Betty just looks quiet.

“She's so quiet,” Laura says, echoing Danny's thoughts. “It doesn't feel like she's asleep, it feels like she's not here.”

“It's probably the hospital,” Danny says, as reassuringly as she can. “And the situation. But she's right here with us, I promise.”

Laura rests her head on the bed and sighs. “I feel so bad that Carmilla had to deal with this,” she says. “She hardly really knows us.”

Danny takes a deep breath as she tries to think of the best way to address this. “Yeah, about her...” She trails off.

“What?”

“I don't know how I feel about her spending time with Betty.”

“And why is that? Do you think I don't know how to care for our daughter?”

This is already going badly, Danny can see it. It's a rehash of the argument they started back in Laura's apartment, but Danny can't make herself stop. This is her daughter, and she's going to do what it takes to protect her. “It's not that you can't care for her, Laura, that's not what I'm saying at all. You said it yourself – we hardly know Carmilla.”

“She's never alone with Betty, and I've spent time with her. She's a nice person Danny, what is your problem?”

Danny thinks back to the way Carmilla had looked at Laura. The way she'd looked at Betty. “I just don't like her. There's something about her that I don't trust.”

“That's not a good enough reason. Don't try to tell me how to be a parent.”

“I have a say in our daughter's upbringing as well, Laura,” Danny snaps, her patience, already naturally thin, getting close to the breaking point. “Shouldn't you at least listen to what I have to say? Shouldn't we make decisions together?”

“We're not together anymore.” Laura's voice is rising, then she glances at Betty and lowers it. “And I like Carmilla.”

“We will always be together, in one way or another. We have Betty, and we need to take care of her. Together.”

“And you think I don't take care of her? That I can't?”

Danny's in too deep to back out now, and she recognizes the look in Laura's eyes. The determined angry look that never leads to a good outcome. “That's not what I'm saying,” she begins, but Laura cuts her off.

“So what? Do you think this is my fault too?” Laura asks, gesturing to Betty in her hospital bed. “If I had taken better care of her then this wouldn't have happened?”

“There must have been signs, symptoms that would have warned us about this.”

“You had her last week, don't you think you should be the one to have noticed them?”

“Laura, you're reading things that don't exist into what I'm saying. I'm only talking about how I don't want Carmilla to spend too much time with Betty.”

Laura stands up, and though it doesn't decrease their height difference by any significant amount, her presence matches Danny's exactly. “No, this is about more than that, isn't it? You want to blame me, like if I had seen it coming, then-” Suddenly Laura crumples, falling back into the chair and curling up. She covers her face and Danny knows she's crying.

“Laura, please,” she says, sitting down and reaching out to touch Laura's knee. “I just want you to tell me who's in our daughter's life. I want to have a say. You're an excellent mother, nobody's to blame for this.”

“I'm so scared,” Laura chokes out, looking up at Danny. Tear tracks run down her cheeks, glistening in the half-light of the rising sun.

“Me too, honey,” Danny says. “Me too.”

They look at each other for a moment, all the anger dissipating under the terror they've both been trying to fight. A sudden buzzing noise makes them both jump.

“What...?” Danny looks around for the source.

“I think it's my phone,” Laura says, moving to reach for her purse.

“Oh good. I thought it might have-” Danny doesn't finish that thought as she glances at Betty. “Never mind.”

“Who could be calling me at this hour?” Laura fishes around in her purse, finally grabbing it and turning it over to look at the screen. “Don't they know what.....” Her voice vanishes as her eyes widen.

“Well? Who is it?” Danny asks, leaning forward to look at the screen.

“It's... it's JP.”

Laura tilts the phone so Danny can see the flashing name. It's hard to believe, even when she sees it with her own eyes. Laura looks from Danny to the screen, her face a mask of disbelief.

* * *

Laura hits ignore for the third time and drops the phone on the bed. Through everything, Betty's barely moved, which she can't help but be grateful for. Betty certainly didn't need to see her arguing with Danny, and now JP. Who Betty doesn't even know exists.

“He's certainly persistent,” Danny says, crossing the room to drop their empty wrappers in the trash.

“Always was.” Laura's phone buzzes once and she flips it over. _New Voicemail_. “He left a message this time.”

Danny raises her eyebrows as she moves to stand at the end of Betty's bed. “Are you going to listen to it?”

“It's been five years since I talked to him,” Laura says. “Why did he choose now of all times to try to get back in contact with me? This is the last thing I need.”

Laura's phone buzzes again, a reminder of the voicemail.

“Maybe you should listen to it. Just see what's up. You don't have to call him back.”

Laura glances between Danny and the phone, then sighs. “Probably a good idea.” She picks the phone back up and opens the voicemail, putting it to her ear. She wants to hear it first, before Danny does.

 _Hey Laura_ , begins the familiar British-accented voice. _I know we haven't talked in.... well in a while, but I'm back in town. For a bit. I was wondering if you would get coffee with me, there are some... things I want to talk to you about... yeah. Anyway, I hope everyone's good. Danny and, um, Betty. Give me a call back._

Laura rolls her eyes as she lowers the phone. “He wants to get coffee.” she says in response to Danny's questioning expression. “And talk.”

“Did he say why?”

“No.” Laura groans and drops her head onto the bed.

“It will be okay,” Danny says. “Besides, you guys parted friendly.”

“Yeah. But I never expected to have to see him again. I thought he was gone forever.” Laura looks at her phone in trepidation. Of all the times for JP to return, he chose this one. Why not in three weeks? Why not in six months? Why not never? Laura groans again into the sheets.

* * *

 Hospital visiting hours start at eight, and Carmilla arrives at eight-oh-one, carrying a stuffed black cat in one hand. She asks at reception for Betty's room number, and strokes the toy anxiously, worried they'll tell her that it's family only. Instead, the nurse gives Carmilla a number, directions, and a smile. Carmilla smiles back, mostly because it feels rude not to. A little bit because she appreciates the attempt at cheer.

She has to ask for directions from two more nurses before she finally manages to find Betty's room. Danny and Laura are sitting inside, talking quietly, but they both stop and look over when Carmilla knocks on the open door.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

There's a momentary pause before Carmilla steps just inside the door. She lifts the stuffed animal and says, “I brought this. Isn't this what people are supposed to do when someone's in the hospital?”

“A toy?” Danny says, almost incredulously, and Carmilla begins to feel equal parts defensive and stupid.

“No, it's great,” Laura says hastily, standing up and motioning for Carmilla to join them. “It'll make this place less scary, I think.”

Carmilla's bad feelings lessen, but they don't completely disappear under Danny's unfriendly gaze. “Here,” she says, crossing the room to hold the cat out to Laura.

Laura takes it, then leans over and tucks it underneath Betty's arm. She moves a little, and all three of them look at her in anxious excitement, but she quiets down again.

“Pull up a chair,” Laura says, and Carmilla retrieves one from the wall, sitting opposite Danny and Laura across the bed. They all fall quiet, none of them certain what to say.

“Have you heard anything yet?” Carmilla finally breaks the silence, hoping that's a good question to ask.

“Not yet,” Laura replies. “Sometime this morning, they said.”

Carmilla nods, and they fall into silence again. She wants to reach out and take Betty's hand, and if she were alone with Laura, she would, but Danny's eyes are a warning, so she keeps her hands to herself, folded in her lap. She wishes she had something to do with her fingers, but feels to self conscious to pull out her phone.

Just as she's thinking this, she hears a soft buzzing, and Laura picks her own phone up off the bed.

“JP again,” she says resignedly to Danny, before hitting the _ignore_ button.

“How many calls is that?” Danny asks.

“That would be the sixth.”

“Maybe you should just answer, so you can get rid of him.”

Carmilla watches in confusion as Laura shakes her head vehemently. “No no no. I do not want to do that right now. Besides, that probably wouldn't get rid of him anyway.”

Danny shrugs. “I can go track him down and make him stop. I'm sure I could find him, easy.”

“Oh no, Danny, don't. I can deal with this, I don't need you to fight all my battles.”

“I'm just trying to help.”

The tension in the room skyrockets and Carmilla tries hard to look anywhere but at them.

“I just wish he'd stop calling,” Laura says.

Finally, Carmilla can't stop herself. “Who's JP?”

Danny and Laura exchange a look. “Laura,” Danny begins, and Carmilla can tell that Danny's about to tell Laura not to do something, just by her tone. She can also tell, by the way Laura turns to look at her, that Laura's going to do it anyway, though if it's because she wants to, or because Danny's trying to tell her not to, Carmilla can't guess.

“I knew JP in college. He's Betty's father.”

Carmilla blinks. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.


	5. Things Fall Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I get something glaringly wrong, please let me know. I'm trying very hard to do my research, but mistakes happen.

“He's Betty's biological father,” Danny says, glaring at Laura. “He hardly even knows she exists. He was gone long before she was born.”

Carmilla looks between her and Laura, trying to figure out how to respond.

Laura nods. “Yeah. But he's trying to contact me and I have no idea why. I wasn't supposed to hear from him ever again.”

Danny sighs in frustration and crosses her arms. Laura's halfway to regretting she said anything about JP. This isn't how she wants Carmilla to see her, but she did get herself into this mess, so maybe she can puzzle her way out of it.

“Hello,” says a voice from the door, and the three of them turn around. A young woman stands in the doorway, her clipboard and white coat marking her as a doctor. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Danny says, standing up.

Carmilla follows suit. “I'm going to leave.”

Laura opens her mouth to protest, then closes it and nods instead. “I'll see you around.”

“I have something for you,” Carmilla says quickly, holding out a little piece of paper. “It's my phone number. Let me know how Betty is?”

“Sure.” Laura reaches out and takes the paper, then tucks it into her pocket.

Carmilla nods to her and Danny before rounding the doctor to leave the room. The doctor shuts the door, then turns back to Danny and Laura. “Good morning,” she says, giving them a smile, but neither of them return it. “I'm Dr Sarah-Jane Spielsdorf, and I'm Betty's doctor. I take it you are Miss Hollis and Miss Lawrence?”

“Just Laura,” Laura says, reaching for the doctor's hand.

Danny doesn't shake her hand, just nods and says, “Danny Lawrence.”

“Please, take a seat.”

“Do you know what happened to Betty?” Danny asks, without moving. “Is she okay?”

Dr Spielsdorf takes a breath and looks down at her clipboard. “From the history you've given us, we don't think it's likely that this is epilepsy, which would be our first thought after a seizure. We tested her for liver and kidney problems, as well as various infections and toxins that might have caused this, but none of them were positive.”

“What's the next step then?” Danny asks. She's more pulled together than Laura, more focussed and to the point. Laura's still trying to process, trying to pull together what is and is not being said to form an understanding of what she's being told. Everything feels slow and opaque, and she's glad that Danny is here with her.

“The next step would be a CT scan or an MRI-”

“An MRI?” Laura cuts her off. “Like looking at Betty's brain?”

“Yes,” Dr Spielsdorf says. “Sometimes seizures can be caused by bleeding in the brain, or tumors and we need to check for both.”

“A... tumor?” Laura breathes, and, almost involuntarily, reaches for Danny. Danny puts an arm around Laura's shoulders and pulls her close.

“Don't be alarmed, Miss Hollis. There's no need to panic. This could just be a one-time seizure, we don't know yet.”

“But what if...” Laura can't even bring herself to finish, and Danny squeezes her gently.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Danny says to her. “When can we schedule the MRI? Or the CT, or whatever.”

“I can have a nurse schedule it for today, if you want,” Dr Spielsdorf says.

Danny nods. “That would be good. Can you-”

“Mommy?”

Laura whirls around. Betty's eyes are opening slowly, and she blinks against the sunlight coming in through the window. “Sweetheart, hi,” Laura says, reaching out to take Betty's hand again. She bends closer to the bed and smiles softly.

“Where am I?”

“You're in the hospital, sweetie,” Laura says. “You gave us quite a scare.” She runs her fingers through Betty's hair, then along her cheek.

“Mornin`, Little Bear,” Danny says, as Betty's eyes flicker over Laura's shoulder. “How're you doing?”

“Tired,” Betty says, yawning. “My head hurts.”

Laura casts a worried glance at Dr Spielsdorf, who steps forward. “Good morning Betty,” she says with a smile. “I'm Dr Sarah-Jane Spielsdorf, but you can call me Dr SJ.”

“Hi.” Betty's beginning to wake up properly, and she pulls her hand out of Laura's to rub her eyes.

“We can get you some ibuprofen for your head,” Dr Spielsdorf says, and Betty nods. “It was nice to meet you, Betty. I have to run, but I'll see you later.”

Betty nods, then looks back up at her moms. Laura's fingers still toy with her curls, and she can't stop herself from looking at her daughter for more than ten seconds at a time. She's grateful that Danny can talk to the doctor, that she doesn't have to be in more than one place.

“I'll send in a nurse to schedule the MRI,” Dr Spielsdorf says to Danny.

“Thank you.”

Laura feels rather than sees the doctor leave. “You hungry, sweetie?” she asks, and Betty nods. “Why don't we see if we can find some food, huh?” Her voice catches, and she has to stop to take a breath. It's all she can do not to turn around and throw herself into Danny's arms, to hide from everything that's happening. Instead, she moves her hand over Betty's head, messing with her hair.

“Hey!” Betty exclaims with a grin, batting her mother's hands away.

Laura laughs and pulls back a little. She doesn't want to imagine what might be happening directly beneath her fingertips.

* * *

 “Do you think we're going to find parking?” Perry asks as Lafontaine pulls into the parking structure.

“Don't worry, there's gonna be parking,” Lafontaine says, flipping on their lights and making a right to head up to the next level.

“And do you remember the room number? Laura texted it to me, I think.” Perry reaches for her phone, but Lafontaine holds out their hand to stop her.

“It's okay. We'll find Betty just fine. Breathe, Perr.”

“Okay.” Perry takes a deep breath and leans back, closing her eyes.

Lafontaine swings into a parking spot and turns the car off, then looks over at Perry. “You ready?”

Perry gives Lafontaine a look before reaching down to pick up the tupperware of brownies on the floor of the front seat. “No.”

“It'll be okay,” Lafontaine says. Perry doesn't respond, just nods, but she seems to pull herself together as they make their way down the stairs and into the hospital.

It's busy, light pouring in through the wide windows and into the lobby, and they get in line for people waiting to be directed to the proper room. Or wing, or building, or whatever. This hospital is almost distractingly huge.

“Laf!” someone calls, and Lafontaine turns around.

“Hey Danny,” they say with a smile.

Danny doesn't return it as she approaches, holding what looks like a boxed sandwich. “Glad you came,” she says.

“How is Betty?” Perry asks by way of greeting.

“She's awake. Seems the same as ever, but...” Danny trails off and Lafontaine reaches out to touch her elbow comfortingly.

“Have you seen a doctor? What did they say?” Perry asks earnestly.

Danny hesitates glancing around the room, then lifts the box a little. “I'm gonna take this up to Laura, if you want to come with me. You can say hi to Betty.”

“Sounds good,” Lafontaine jumps in before Perry can object, then pulls her out of line to follow Danny past the desk. “Do we need visitor passes?”

“You can get them at the desk in Pediatrics,” Danny says. She gestures to the desk in front of them. “That's mostly for direction.”

“I brought brownies,” Perry says as Danny leads them to the elevators and pushes the up arrow. “I thought I should bring... something.”

Danny does give Perry a smile. “Thank you.”

“When did Betty wake up?” Perry asks. The elevator doors _ding_ and slide open.

It seems to take Danny several seconds to build up the energy to speak. “This morning, a little past eight. She seems okay, but...” Danny takes a deep breath and the doors slide shut on them. There's the slight lurching of their stomach that indicates they're rising. “But they still don't know what caused the seizure. So they're running some more tests.”

“Tests? Like what tests?”

“Like an MRI.”

“Her brain?” Perry tries to keep the horror out of her voice, but it slips through, around the edges of her words.

“Do they think it's...” Lafontaine pauses, but can't find a gentler way to finish their sentence, “cancer?”

“They don't know.”

The elevator _dings_ again as the light hits six and they step out. The doors open into a wide reception area, and Danny leads them to the desk. “Visitors, room 1698,” she says, and the nurse hands them a couple of visitor stickers. Perry wrinkles her nose as she sticks it to her shirt. “This way,” Danny says, turning to lead them down a hallway. The walls are painted with plants and bugs, and doors stand propped open to reveal children in hospital beds. Some of the rooms are decorated; they look like living spaces. Others are sparse, emptier, clearly temporary. Betty's is one of these, when Danny directs Lafontaine and Perry into it.

“Hi Betty,” Perry says, and Betty looks around at her.

“Perry!” Betty reaches out for a hug and Perry crosses the room to give her one, touching the little girl gently. Lafontaine almost smiles when they see them together, but their sobering surroundings make it hard.

“Hey Perry, Laf,” Laura says from her seat at Betty's bedside. “Danny, the nurse is here to take Betty to her MRI.” She gestures across the room at a young man, who's busy unhooking machines and flipping switches.

“Oh just in time to see you go,” Lafontaine says with a grin at Betty. “We'll be here when you get back though, if you want.”

“I brought brownies.” Perry wiggles the tupperware.

“Can I have one Mommy?” Betty looks hopefully up at Laura, who glances at the nurse.

“When you get back, okay?”

“Where am I going?” Betty asks, worried.

“Um, you're going to a, um...” Laura looks helplessly at Lafontaine, who steps in before the nurse has a chance to respond.

“You're going to go get pictures taken,” Lafontaine says, moving closer to Betty. “But not like you're used to. Instead they're going to take pictures of the inside of you, of your brain.”

“My brain?” Betty repeats, wide-eyed.

“Yes. They're going to put you into a big machine, and you'll have to lie very still, and it's going to make a lot of noise, and it might be a little bit scary. But you're brave, right?”

Betty hesitates, then holds out a stuffed cat that she'd tucked under the blankets with her. “I'll take Lophii,” she says. “He'll help me be brave.”

“Awesome. Is he new?”

Betty nods vigorously. “Yeah! Carmilla gave him to me. Lophii's gonna keep me safe.”

The nurse puts a hand on the bed to get their attention. “It's time to go. You'll be back soon though Betty, ok? My name is Matt, I'll take care of you.”

Betty looks with worry up at Laura, who leans down to kiss her. “You'll be fine, and we'll be here when you're back.”

Betty's arms tighten around the stuffed cat as the nurse pulls the bed away from the wall, and they watch her go in silence. Once she's vanished around the corner, Lafontaine puts an arm around Laura's shoulder and leans their heads together. “Let's talk. Perry brought brownies and Danny brought you a sandwich. You should eat.”

Laura nods, sinking into a chair. “Thank you for coming,” she says, taking a brownie out of the container.

Danny passes over the sandwich before taking a chair across the room. She looks like she's shutting down, like there's no energy left inside of her. Laura looks stunned, shell-shocked. “Let's talk,” Lafontaine repeats, taking the seat next to her. They might be able to help, and if they can't... then at least they can listen.

* * *

 Carmilla's noon discussion section goes a lot more slowly than it normally does. Normally she'd check the clock every ten minutes, but today it seems more like thirty seconds. Every second feels like an hour and every minute like a day. To the delight of her students, she lets them go fifteen minutes early, and the classroom vacates in five seconds flat, as though they're afraid she'll call them back and tell them it was a joke.

She sighs, then pulls her phone out of her bag. She'd been warned by the professor not to check her phone in discussion, because it will “encourage the same behavior in her students” so Carmilla's done her best to avoid it. Today it feels impossible though, so she's stopped fighting it.

The screen flashes blank. No messages. Carmilla tries to keep the disappointment off her face as she slides the textbook and her notes into her bag and stands to leave.

Campus is quieter than usual, as most classes haven't let out, so the rush of students moving from one building to another hasn't begun yet. The walk to the edge of campus is faster, and she forces herself not to look at her phone until she gets there. It's still blank.

Not for the first time, Carmilla curses herself for not thinking to get Laura's number. Again. It always seems to be this way. Even if she _had_ Laura's number though, she's not sure she'd be the first to text. But Betty... and Laura... Carmilla remembers the little cat, the way Laura had tucked it underneath Betty's arm. She wonders if Betty's named it yet. Compulsively, she checks her phone again. It hasn't changed. No messages.

She crosses the street and begins the walk back to her house. Driving her thoughts away from the little girl and her mother is harder than Carmilla would have thought, but she's learning that Laura has this effect on her. She touches her phone every five seconds, and no matter how many times she tries not to, everything circles back to Betty and Laura. Not that she has any new thoughts about either, it's the same ones replaying endlessly.

Her house is mercifully quiet when she turns the key in the lock. She grabs a grape soda from the fridge on her way past the kitchen, forcing herself not to check her phone again. She checked it three seconds ago, nothing could possibly have changed.

As she drops her bag on the bed, she resists the urge to collapse onto it as well. Her phone buzzes against her pocket, and Carmilla almost drops her soda in her haste to grab it.

All of her warm excitement drains away, turning to a sharp cold that writhes against her collarbones and along her ribs.

 _Elle_.

* * *

 It's late afternoon when Dr Spielsdorf returns to them. Betty came back from the MRI clutching her toy cat, and telling her mothers all about how the machine was like a spaceship, and how she and Lophii were going to see the stars.

“It was very loud though,” she said. “It made my head hurt more, even though they gave me big headphones.”

“Your head still hurts?” Laura asked, worried. Betty had nodded, then drifted into sleep soon after. Perry and Lafontaine left to get to work, but the container of brownies is still sitting on one of the chairs.

“That doesn't sound good,” Laura says, once she knows that Betty's asleep. She looks across the bed where Danny sits, holding their daughter's other hand. “Her head.”

Danny pauses trying to come up with the best thing to say, then says, “Let's not jump to conclusions, okay? Dr Spielsdorf will be here soon to talk to us. Then we'll know what's going on.”

Laura nods, and they sit in silence. There's nothing left for them to say. Just waiting. There's a quiet knock on the door.

“Miss Hollis? Miss Lawrence?” Dr Spielsdorf looks in at them, holding a clipboard and a pile of papers against her chest.

“Dr Spielsdorf,” Laura says, standing up. Danny looks over without letting go of Betty's hand. “Do you have news?”

The doctor hesitates, looking at the sleeping Betty, then says, “Why don't we talk in the conference room down the hall?”

Danny and Laura exchange worried looks as they follow her. Dr Spielsdorf gestures towards the chairs and they sit down across from her. She lays her paperwork out in front of her then looks up at them.

“Just tell us,” Danny says. “Don't beat around the bush or anything. We need to know.”

Dr Spielsdorf glances at the papers before looking up at them again. “So we did Betty's MRI, and we found a mass in her brain.” Both Danny and Laura look at her, halfway to comprehension. “We think it's a tumor.”

“Like cancer? Brain cancer?” Laura asks, her voice hollow.

“In all likelihood, yes.”

Laura takes a shuddering breath, and Danny reaches out, wrapping one arm around Laura's shoulders and reaching for her hand with the other.

“What do we know?” Danny asks, sparing Laura the duty of talking.

“It's probably a rare form of cancer called PNET, or a primitive neuroectodermal tumor. Seizures are very common, and the other symptoms you've described, headaches, fatigue, weakness, and so on, appear to match this, and the location of the tumor... well it comes closest to indicating this type.”

Danny feels something drop against her hand and looks over to find Laura crying silently. She runs a thumb soothingly against Laura's skin, trying for Laura's sake to stave off the emptiness inside of her, growing with every word spoken. “What about,” Danny's breath catches and she pauses before finishing, “treatment?”

“It can be complicated,” Dr Spielsdorf replies. She sorts through her papers, then slides one across the table to them. It's a cross section of a brain, and across the top it reads _Patient: Elizabeth Anne Hollis-Lawrence_.

Laura tucks her face against Danny's arm rather than look at the image, but Danny leans forward. She has a hard desire to know, to understand, like maybe if she understands well enough, the tumor will go away, or she will somehow be able to make it go away.

“Our first choice would be a surgery, to remove the tumor, but Betty's is closer to the center of her brain.” Dr Spielsdorf uncaps a pen and makes a circle on the picture. Danny's eyes track her movements, but have trouble registering what it is that's actually happening. Dr Spielsdorf continues, “Reaching it through surgery is difficult, especially in patients as young as Betty. It's... invasive, and dangerous. And PNET is aggressive, the tumors aren't usually well defined, so surgical removal doesn't mean that we will be able to get the whole thing out.”

“What about radiation, or chemotherapy?”

Dr Spielsdorf sighs. “They are options, yes. Surgery is the most effective way to get rid of the tumor. Like I said though, treatment is hard and complicated, especially for these types of tumors and this type of cancer.” She pauses again, then says, “We need to learn more about Betty and confirm that it is this, but I think it's fairly certain. The outlook isn't usually good.” She says the last part quietly, like it hurts her to have to tell them this, but that doesn't soften the blow.

Danny doesn't have anything left to say. There's too much already sitting in front of her, already carving out space inside of her. Her fingers still move against Laura's skin, though she can't tell if it's more for her comfort or for Laura's. She feels Laura shake against her, knows Laura is trying hard not to make noise as she cries.

“I'm sorry,” Dr Spielsdorf says. “I'll give you two some time, then we can talk about treatment in more detail, and make a plan for how we want to proceed.”

Danny just nods, and waits for the doctor to leave the room before turning completely to Laura, pulling her close. She rests her head on Laura's shoulder, feels the other woman shake harder as she stops fighting her tears. Laura wraps her arms around Danny too, and Danny finally lets herself feel everything she'd been trying to ignore. A hard weight inside of her chest loosens when she lets go, and she and Laura hold each other as they cry.


End file.
